<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>kiss with a fist by librain</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27786112">kiss with a fist</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/librain/pseuds/librain'>librain</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Forced Marriage, Hermione Granger is Bad at Feelings, Hermione's kinda going through it, Mental Health Issues, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Soulmates, They fight a lot, Unreliable Narrator, if you have heard the song you get the idea of the violence, marriage law</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 01:14:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,284</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27786112</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/librain/pseuds/librain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>a kick in the teeth is good for some<br/>a kiss with a fist is better than none<br/>-<br/>The concept of the Marriage Law was asinine, dystopian, and exactly what Hermione Granger had come to expect from the Ministry of Magic.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>151</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It had been six months.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Six months of being Draco Malfoy’s wife. Six months of being forced to cohabitate in their Ministry approved flat. With one bedroom. And one bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The concept of the Marriage Law was asinine, dystopian, and exactly what Hermione Granger had come to expect from the Ministry of Magic in her six years working there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As a junior policy analyst, she was privy to the details of the proposed legislation before the public. Her superiors authored it. Hell, she had to proofread it. Despite the advance knowledge of the next challenge she would have to face as a witch, no one would listen to her protests. Her close friendship with the Minister himself wasn’t even enough; government reform meant the separation of the executive, legislative, and judicial branches. Their adoption of the Muggle model meant Kingsley’s hands were tied when it came to matters within the Wizengamot’s jurisdiction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A young Hermione Granger once told a different Minister of Magic that she would never consider a career in magical law as she wanted to do some good in the world. Present Hermione Granger knew this is what she wanted to avoid. Young Hermione would be disappointed in her choice of career. She would be disappointed in a lot of her choices. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One choice she did not fuck up was her husband. No, that disaster was the responsibility of the Department of Mysteries. The system that matched the wizarding population was a series of tests. Hermione viewed it as a kind of Myers-Briggs meets Witch Weekly questionnaire, accompanied by blood tests and magical core tests and “soul” tests, if there were such a thing. She knew it was all a bunch of dragon dung when they told her Draco Malfoy was to be her husband.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t seen Malfoy since their eighth year at Hogwarts after the war. Headmistress McGonagall named them Head Boy and Girl in the name of school unity. Despite spending a year in close quarters, Hermione did her best to avoid him, never getting over her dislike of the man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first time she saw him was in the Office of Marriages and Deaths waiting room six years after their graduation. They were forced to meet to discuss the logistics of their marriage, including residence, assets, and other legal matters prior to their bonding. After they moved in together, Hermione once again tried her best to avoid him. She had taken to working long hours, visiting Harry, Ginny, and their kids, or wandering around Muggle London until she was so exhausted she would only be home to sleep.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her boss noticed her long hours logged in the office, and being the co-author of the Marriage Law, banned Hermione from entering the office so she would spend time with her husband. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So here she was. Sitting at her desk in the study, perpendicular to her husband’s, and staring at him while he worked. It surprised her that he seemed to have a job, she assumed he would simply live off of his family’s fortune. What he actually did, she had no clue.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hated him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Loathed </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. Not for his bigotry, no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>part of her husband’s past had been resolved in their eighth year at Hogwarts.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She was sitting in the Heads’ common area working on her Transfiguration essay when Draco burst through the portrait hole. He was supposed to be doing rounds with the seventh year Hufflepuff prefect for another half hour, so she thought she would have their dormitory to herself for a bit longer. She was about to chastise him for leaving his post when she saw the look on his face. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She had only seen that level of emotion cross his face once when she was bleeding out on the floor of his drawing-room that April.  </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Malfoy,” she asked hesitantly. “Are you alright?” </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He was pacing in front of the fireplace, just a few metres from where she sat.  </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We…” Draco was shaking. “We went to the Astronomy Tower and I… I just couldn’t…”  </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hermione nodded, recognising the signs he was experiencing. He stopped suddenly and looked at her.  </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Granger, I am so sorry. For everything. For making you feel like you were any less of a witch because of your heritage. For trying my best to make your school years hell just because you were Muggleborn. I know now that there is no difference between Pureblood, Halfblood, or whatever. It took watching people die in front of me for me to realize this and I just feel like an idiot for buying into all of this bullshit. And I’m sorry for what my aunt did to you, and that I did </span>
  </em>
  <span>nothing </span>
  <em>
    <span>to stop-” </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hermione held up her hand and he stopped. She didn’t, couldn’t respond. Instead, she got up and walked to the bookcase. Reaching behind some thick textbooks she pulled out a bottle of Firewhiskey she hid there last week. She sat back on the couch and took a large swig straight from the bottle. Noticing Malfoy just standing watching her, she patted the seat next to her. Once he sat down, she wordlessly passed him the bottle to have a drink. They sat in silence until long after the bottle was empty. They didn’t speak about that night for the rest of the year.  </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>Draco Malfoy wasn’t the same man full of prejudice. She hated him for everything he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>without </span>
  </em>
  <span>it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was a snob. The flat they lived in was the fifth they toured, and he still complained about the size. He picked out every piece of furniture in their flat, insulting her choices for being too ‘plebeian’. He refused to let her cook, opting to make all of their meals as he had a ‘more refined palate’.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Need help with something, Granger? Have you forgotten the year that the Wizard-Merfolk land treaty took place again or are you just enjoying the view?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was also a fucking know-it-all. Although it was a moniker often assigned to her, Hermione knew what an absolute swot Draco Malfoy was. She remembered the long hours he would put into studying for his NEWTs. The organized study timetable he left on the living room table of their Heads dorms with an attention to detail that rivalled her own. How he would steal her assignments to correct them and leave his out for her to review, arguing that while he may despise her, she must have been doing something right to be top of their class.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Malfoy, now. And I’m weighing which method of murder would get me the least time in Azkaban. I’m thinking tampering with a potion may make it look accidental.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, now you’ve just told me how you’re going to do it, daft bint.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if that would stop me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snorted, then returned to his paperwork. She continued staring. Their fights in their last year had been legendary. Post-war Hogwarts had been, to put it lightly, a disaster. Child soldiers did not adjust well to being told to behave in Charms class. Hermione found herself needing to blow off excess adrenaline by any means necessary. That mainly meant hexing the Head Boy in their dormitory. She recalled how much she loathed their old quarters but now missed having her own bedroom, own bathroom.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to copulate again tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She also missed not having to fuck Malfoy once a week under Ministry orders. At least he was fit, though she hated herself for acknowledging that. The years had been kind to Malfoy and they both knew it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione sighed, fishing a knut out of her desk drawer. “Heads or tails?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heads.” She flipped the coin. Tails.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m on top, then. I’ll see you later.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hours later Hermione found herself straddling Malfoy in their expensive sheets, bouncing unenthusiastically. She kept her head trained on the painting hung above the bed, inspecting the brushstrokes while waiting for the tell-tale grunt from below her meaning she can roll over and go to sleep. She had liked being on top in the beginning, demanding it on their wedding night, saying if she was forced to have sex with him, she at least wanted some semblance of control.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now it was just a chore.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could at least try to pretend you’re enjoying this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked down at his smirking face and glared. She started to moan exaggeratedly, “Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>gods</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Malfoy! Yes, yes, YES!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spanked her, so she backhanded him across the face.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was her third day of working from home and she wanted to strangle him. Malfoy hums when he works. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hums</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She identified the song of the day being </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vogue </span>
  </em>
  <span>by Madonna. She had no clue where he would have heard the song, but asking him would require talking to him, so she instead sent a non-verbal </span>
  <em>
    <span>Silencio </span>
  </em>
  <span>at him and rushed through her case summary to send back to her boss.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being home meant she wasn’t able to create extra work to occupy herself for hours on end. Hermione had not realised how hard she worked to ignore the situation she was in, but working across from Draco Malfoy, her </span>
  <em>
    <span>husband</span>
  </em>
  <span>, every day served as a reminder that this was her life now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat reading on the sofa trying to forget for the umpteenth time where she was and who she was with. She heard Malfoy walking into the room and glanced up. In his hands was a letter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is from Pansy, apparently Prissy Weasley knocked her up, they’re already making arrangements with divorce lawyers for eight months from now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione just hummed in response.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That could be us, you know if you would just-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-if I would just </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Malfoy? I already fuck you regularly, what more can I possibly do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cringed at her language. “Well, forgive me for wanting to have sex with my wife.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She threw her book at him, but he caught it. Damn his Seeker reflexes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh please, I’m hardly your wife. I am the broodmare the government has gifted you to produce your precious heir with. Why are you so excited to have my dirty blood sully the Malfoy line?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He threw the book back at her. Her lack of coordination meant the book hit her in the centre of her forehead, promising a bruise would appear in the next couple of days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I don’t give a damn about that shit anymore, Granger.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Malfoy,” she corrected, summoning a bottle of wine, despite it being only two o’clock on a Wednesday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It started after the war. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione and Harry, both essentially homeless and familyless, moved into Grimmauld Place. Ron returned to his family at the Burrow but was over multiple times a week. She and Ron weren’t together, but they also weren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>together. The three spent the summer in a state of purgatory; the boys were contemplating offers of joining the Aurors, Hermione debating returning to school as Head girl. Their presence was also required at multiple ceremonies, galas, and celebrations, so the trio was in a near-constant state of exhaustion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One night while exploring the old home, the three, plus Ginny, who had told her mother that she was having a sleepover with Hermione but everyone knew she was really there for Harry, found Sirius’ stash of Firewhiskey. Between the four of them, they became sloshed from one bottle, due to their lack of drinking experience. It was the first time Hermione felt light, happy, like a teenager again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, in August, Hermione received confirmation from the Mind Healers looking after her parents in Australia that they were ready to undo the memory charm she placed on them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trip was successful in one way; her parents’ memories were restored and they remembered Hermione. They also wanted nothing to do with her. After a week of pleading to them to forgive her, that she only did what she had to do, to please come back with her to England, they only conceded that they knew she thought was best, but it would take them a long time to forgive her if they ever did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Hermione returned to England alone. Harry was already asleep, having started Auror training at the beginning of the month. She went down to the wine cellar and picked a bottle at random, then passed out against the racks after drinking the last drop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The habit continued in the form of parties in the Gryffindor common room, social drinks with friends, just </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>drink when returning from work. After graduation, she lived alone. Ginny had moved in with Harry and Ron was still living at the Burrow, though he stayed over at her flat often throughout their pseudo-relationship. None of them saw how much she relied on her vice to ease her overactive mind, to stop the tremors in her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only person around enough to notice, both in their eighth year and now, was Draco Malfoy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy watched her as she sipped from the bottle. “Still drinking to avoid your problems, Granger?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ducked as the bottle shattered against the wall behind his head.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry often expressed his concern about his best friend’s marriage. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s toxic</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he said time and time again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What else would it be? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hermione would reply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Saturday night; Hermione was out with Harry and Ginny at a Muggle pub in downtown London. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione, I’m serious, do you want to file a report with the Auror’s office? I can take your statement right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was holding her cold drink to the goose egg that had formed on her forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry, I hardly think either of us is in the place to produce a credible report at the moment. Besides, you should have seen the broken nose I gave him last week. He complained so much I finally healed it myself so he would shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ginny laughed; Harry frowned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>healthy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, ‘Mione. I can’t help but worry-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know they can’t actually hurt each other,” Ginny interjected. “The Ministry wouldn’t allow it. That pain-resistance spell-thing. It was in their vows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the Ministry’s ingenious additions to the Law. Numerous complaints arose from concerned Muggleborns about their safety when paired with blood purists. The only solution was including a spell in their bonding that meant they couldn’t hurt one another. Not that they couldn’t injure their spouse, only that there would be no pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione lifted her glass from her forehead in a toast to Ginny. “If we had a genuine relationship, I would be worried. As that will never happen, I am fine to take a few bruises if I can get some hits in on his pointy face myself. It’s not like it hurts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry wasn’t convinced. Hermione shrugged, finishing her drink and dumped the ice cubes into a napkin to press to her goose egg. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She had been Draco Malfoy’s wife for eight months now. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy had won the coin toss. He had just rolled off of her, promptly going to sleep. Hermione remained staring up at the ceiling. She hadn’t even taken off her nightgown that night, just hitched it up around her waist so he had access. When she heard his breathing steady she got up, pulling her nightgown back down over her arse. She grabbed her wand, robe, and book and went to sit outside on their balcony. She sat in one of the chairs and wrapped her robe to cover her bare legs. She pulled her pack of cigarettes from their hiding place in the flower box and lit one with her want. Malfoy would be livid if he knew on top of day drinking, she also smoked.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione wasn’t sure how long she sat reading. Her cigarette had long since burned out, and while she would normally try to knock herself out with a drink or a potion, Malfoy’s incessant commentary on her habits bothered her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sun broke the horizon and with daylight came an owl flying in with the Daily Prophet. It dropped the paper on her lap with a hoot and flew off. Hermione unrolled the paper, eyes widening at the headline. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Golden Girl Gone Off the Rails</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>By Rita Skeeter</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hermione Malfoy, nee Granger, wife of Draco Malfoy and </span>
  </em>
  <span>hero</span>
  <em>
    <span> of the Second Wizarding War-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione scoffed at the order of supposed “accomplishments” Skeeter had used. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-is apparently a raging alcoholic. Ms. Malfoy has already been put on administrative leave, reportedly for being intoxicated on the job as a Policy Analyst with the Wizengamot.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes at the outlandish claims by Skeeter. Those, she thought, she was unfortunately quite used to. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Astoria Greengrass, once betrothed to Draco Malfoy before the law was enacted, spoke to yours truly about the newest Malfoy’s clear mental issues. “According to Draco she’s been drinking in the middle of the day when she’s supposed to be working, no less.” There is a fondness in her eyes as she speaks the Malfoy heir’s name. “I just worry about him; it can’t be easy being forced to be married to someone so problematic.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Granger is not a stranger to relationships with famous men. She has previously been linked with The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, his best friend and fellow war hero Ronald Weasley, and International Quidditch superstar Viktor Krum. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Could this be the reason the couple has not yet fulfilled the childrearing portion of the Marriage Law? Is Draco Malfoy concerned about passing his wife’s instability onto his heir? Me, Myself, and I want to know!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione threw the paper off the balcony and stormed inside. Malfoy was still sound asleep, spread out in the middle of the bed. She took her wand and traced the perimeter of the bed, finishing the line she drew as she sat on the settee opposite. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Incendio</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she whispered. Flames crept up the line she had drawn, surrounding Malfoy on the bed. Sweat droplets began to form on his body and he began to squirm in the heat.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Granger,” he mumbled, patting the empty space beside him. He looked up and saw the flames around him. “Granger!”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She snorted and flicked her wand, causing the flames to grow. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Granger, what the fuck are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The gentleman said </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘fuck’</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he was scared. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“When did you speak to Astoria Greengrass?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He noticed her on the settee. “Tori? What are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“When did you tell Astoria about my supposed mental health issues?” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The flames were closing in. “Shite, Granger, I don’t know, a couple of days ago? Get rid of the damned fire!”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh alright,” she split the flames, leaving an opening for him to jump through, closing behind him. He sat next to her, staring incredulously at her profile, as she watched in glee as the fire engulfed the mattress. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What is your problem?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She looked over at him, “I don’t like you talking to Astoria Greengrass.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She watched his face break into its trademark insufferable smirk. “My, my, Granger. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Of the only other woman who was being forced to marry you and somehow managed to escape the cruel fate I find myself in? Yes, I am jealous.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy chuckled as though she was joking. When she didn’t respond he sighed. “What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Skeeter was on the front page of the Prophet writing about my supposed alcoholism, complete with quotes from Greengrass herself. Apparently, my instability would sully the bloodline as if that’s not something I’ve been accused of since this godforsaken marriage began. ”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” he responded. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry Hermione. I didn’t think she’d talk to the press.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione was shocked. At both him using her name and also apologizing. The last time he did the latter was in eighth year and the former at their ministry bonding. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why did you speak to her at all?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I worry.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“About my ability to give you a child?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“About you.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She didn’t know how to respond. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Noting her silence, he explained, “I know it is an understatement to say we don’t get along. But I have some idea of the things you’ve been through, the things that still haunt you. They haunt me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at his Dark Mark, he looked at her Mudblood scar.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to see you drink yourself to death,” he finished. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They sat back and watched the bed burn. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Things after that night were different. Not better, just different. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They had to buy a new bed. Hermione’s input was somewhat taken into consideration this time around, though Malfoy’s incessant critiques about the quality of the furniture she liked continued. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy also insisted on teaching her how to cook. They stood in their kitchen, counters covered in cookbooks, kitchen supplies, and groceries they had picked up that morning. She stood opposite him, wearing the matching his and hers aprons Malfoy bought. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand. You’re home anyway, Malfoy, why shouldn’t you be the one who cooked dinner?” Her hands were on her hips, jealous of the easy way he carried himself setting up their supplies. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How antiquated of you, Granger! Why must the spouse who stays home be the one who does the cooking, the cleaning, the housework?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The house-” Hermione huffed. “I am not saying that, and you know it!”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’re home now, too. Grab the cutting board and knife.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She cursed her boss once again. She had been allowed back in the office for all of three weeks before the Skeeter article reignited the swarm of the press trying to breach the Ministry, so her boss told her to keep working from home. She was now allowed to come in for meetings and to pick up case files, but they all but locked her out of her office. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione wasn’t stupid. The press was not nearly as intense as it was when she first started at the Ministry nor when she was matched with Malfoy. She knew this was all a ploy for her to spend time with Malfoy, so they would once again be the Ministry’s model couple for the Marriage Law as they were when they were matched. Her suspicions were confirmed by a secretary who, when retrieving Hermione’s caseload for the week, told her that it was “so romantic she requested to work from home to spend time with her new husband”. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He started pulling vegetables out of bags and gave her instructions on how to properly slice and dice them. She wanted to slice and dice his face. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“When did you learn to cook?” she asked instead. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“After our eighth year,” he replied, not looking up at her. “I was still on probation for four more years when we graduated, only allowed to do magic on school grounds. I was living alone, in muggle London, no Floo, no house elves, a monthly allowance from the Ministry, galleons from my vault converted into muggle currency, mind you. I had to learn how to survive on my own.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione realized that she hadn’t seen Malfoy at all in the years after they graduated. It was only about a year before they were married that he started being featured in the Prophet again. She had figured he was hiding out in Malfoy Manor, not fending for himself in muggle London. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what did you do, then, when you were on your own?” She asked. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I went to university, to study history. McGonagall arranged it, getting my transcripts transferred into the muggle system, writing recommendation letters for me. I focused on the history of British imperialism, but I took classes in literature, technology, pop culture, and anything to understand the muggle world.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He took the cutting board from her with the half-chopped vegetables on it as she had stopped when Malfoy began talking. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Take a seat,” he said. “I’ll finish, you’re hopeless.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged, then hopped up to sit on the now-empty counter space in front of her. He grimaced. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Must you act so uncouth?” He asked, continuing where she had left off.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“All that growth as a person and you still can’t help but be a snob. Tell me, Malfoy, must everything you have be so </span>
  <em>
    <span>refined</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pivoted stepping towards her. He was standing nearly between her dangling legs. She was almost eye to eye with him from her place on the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I just have standards. Are you implying that I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” His fingers grazed her denim-covered thigh as he smirked playfully. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“In a sense, legally, I suppose you do. In the same way that I have you.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed and returned to his story. “Anyway, that’s why I’m rewriting the Muggle Studies curriculum. Minerva hired me after I graduated.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Why would they ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> to write the curriculum for Muggle Studies?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe the Board of Governors said it was my “Pureblood perspective” that would ensure that muggle culture would be explained in a way that wizarding children could understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh.” Hermione supposed that made sense. “Well if you need help with anything-”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“-I’ll be sure to ask.” He finished with a smile. It was the first time she had seen a genuine smile on his face directed towards her. She hated that she liked it. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They were quiet for a bit after that, Malfoy finishing cooking, Hermione watching him. They sat at the dinner table and ate in peaceful silence. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy stood up from the table, coming over to Hermione to bring her dishes into the kitchen. Before he grabbed them, he asked, “Did you really not know what my career was?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She looked up at him, “I honestly just didn’t give a shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He lifted his foot and kicked her off her chair. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione never believed sex was better with a person you loved. Hell, she loved Ron and she was fortunate to get an orgasm a quarter of the time they slept together. She also had plenty of great sex with different men throughout the years that she had no feelings for whatsoever. No, she thought the whole “sex is better with a person you’re in a relationship” rhetoric was all just a ploy to shame women away from meaningless shags. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her opinion began to change. Hermione was not in love with Malfoy, she was only learning to tolerate him now that they had spent so much time together. It was their new relationship, the change from what may have looked like Azkaban inmates sharing a cell to now nearly civil roommates with violent tendencies, that seemed to impact the quality of their forced fornication. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was almost competitive, the way they goaded each other. Malfoy had taken to forcing eye contact and Hermione stared back, not wanting to lose. It was harder, faster, and Hermione did not admit that she wasn’t faking her enjoyment as often. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to Theo’s. Will you be alright on your own tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy was standing in front of the Floo. She looked up from her book and saw him dressed nicely. In a Muggle suit. Because he was well acquainted with the Muggle world, apparently. He was fiddling with his cuff links as he asked her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, dear husband. I, your delicate, fragile wife, will be able to survive a night alone without my husband here to protect me. Thank you for asking.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I’ll be back by eleven, at the latest. There is leftover pasta in the refrigerator, so you don’t starve or give yourself food poisoning.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye, Malfoy.” She singsonged. The Floo lit up the room and then he was gone. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Half an hour later, Hermione was bored. She finished her book, ate her dinner, and now she didn’t know what to do. She had had plans to go out for drinks with Harry and Ginny, but Albus was sick so they bailed on her earlier that morning. She didn’t feel much like calling on Ron and Susan, things had always been slightly awkward with them, her being Ron’s ex-girlfriend. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She quickly realized she didn’t have any more friends. She didn’t keep in close contact with many people from Hogwarts, not close enough to Floo them on a Friday night. She wasn’t very popular at work either. Her coworkers accused her of using her fame to rise up the Ministry ranks, and she often ruffled a few feathers with her progressive legislative suggestions. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The only family she had was half a world away. She hadn’t seen them since Christmas, where they pointedly ignored the ring on her finger. They opted to not ask her any information about her life in the Wizarding World, choosing to pretend it didn’t exist. They had emailed about once a month, but that was mainly to ensure both parties were still alive more than anything. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She realized the person she was most frequently in contact with was Malfoy. In her cooking lessons, Malfoy surprised her with his willingness to discuss her work, the intricacies of the legislation, and the politics of the Wizarding world. The thought that the person she spent the most time with was someone forced to be with her by law brought on another wave of depression. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione summoned one of Malfoy’s expensive Firewhisky bottles and poured it into her now empty teacup. Surely he couldn’t fault her for one drink. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She went back out on the balcony and stared out to the London streets. While living in a wizarding building, they had a view of the muggle downtown. She could see the muggles, but they couldn’t see her. That thought made her feel incredibly lonely. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hours later she woke to feel herself being lifted by strong arms. Recognizing Malfoy’s scent, she curled into his chest as he carried her to their bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco?” She mumbled into his chest. She felt his breath hitch. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh, go back to sleep, Granger.” He whispered as he laid her in their bed. He began to tuck her into the covers, but by the time he had gotten into bed, she was awake. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They both laid facing each other, their breaths syncing together. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco?” She repeated. She could still feel the alcohol affecting her senses. His eyes were very pretty. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Granger?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Why were you at Theo’s?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Slytherin reunion dinner. We try to have one every few months, now that we’ve all completed our sentences.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She had of course known who his friends were from school, though the only time she had seen most of them since the war was in passing. Neither of their respective friend groups had ever visited their flat. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Was Astoria there?” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, she couldn’t make it this time.” He didn’t question why she asked, she wasn’t sure if she had an answer. Her mind drifted back to the article and the questions it arose, ones that had been haunting her since their marriage, really. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Granger?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you even want kids?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his mouth to answer then quickly closed it as if mentally amending his answer.  “I suppose it isn’t really my choice at this point, is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nodded at his non-answer. “Draco?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Granger.” He sighed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What if I can’t have kids?” Her voice wavered. He didn’t answer, clearly recognizing she would never be this vulnerable in front of him had she not been drunk. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Draco?” She felt her eyelids grow heavy once more and found herself unconsciously snuggling closer towards him. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Why were you drinking tonight?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can forget. I can forget that my parents don’t want to be in my life. I can forget that my friends have moved on with their lives. I can forget about the war, how it </span>
  <em>
    <span>ruined</span>
  </em>
  <span> me, mentally and physically. I can forget that at the end of the day all I really have is a husband that doesn’t care about me and there is nothing I can do about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He was quiet for a moment. “Hermione?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhmm?” Her eyes were fully closed now, not sure if she was even awake or dreaming. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I do. Care that is. About you.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She fell asleep. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>new chapter, finally! i have most of this story prewritten it's just editing that I'm working on, maybe eventually I'll come up with a sched. probably not whoops. please enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hermione hated that her husband was handsome. It was something she was reminded of the entirety of their ten month long marriage. She was reminded once again of this the night of the Ministry Gala celebrating something-or-other (they really were putting that Death Eater Reparation money to good use). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She met him in front of the Floo. He was in a muggle suit again, grey this time, matching his eyes.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Shut up about his eyes, Hermione.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice colour, Granger,” he remarked, not making eye contact. He seemed nervous, though Hermione did not know why. They had been to a few events together out of  obligation and while the looks they received were irritating, galas spent together were hardly more unbearable than they had been before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not my fault I look good in green.” He rolled his eyes in response. She picked up the hem of her dress and wrapped her arm around his and felt him tense. “What’s your problem tonight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing, Granger, let’s just get going.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They arrived in the Atrium of the Ministry to swaths of witches, wizards, and other magical beings in both dress robes and muggle formalwear. Trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres floated by at eye level. She kept her arm wrapped around Malfoy’s as they headed to their usual table that was reserved for Order of Merlin recipients and their partners.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ron, Susan, Harry and Ginny were all already seated at the table when they arrived. There were a few empty seats for other recipients and high-ranking ministry officials. Hermione noted that next to Malfoy’s seat was a place card for Minerva McGonagall, who seldom ever attended these events. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evening, Malfoys,” Ginny greeted, smirking knowing how much they both loathed to be referred to as such. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Ginny, Harry,” they took their seats. “Ron, Susan, how are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great, thank you! I’ve been busy helping out Hannah with the Leaky. With Ron working with George now I can see him a lot more often than when he was an Auror, though, so that’s nice.” Her aforementioned husband sat silently glaring across the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione smiled tensely. Ron always acted this way when forced to spend time with Malfoy, not that Hermione acted any better. She supposed Malfoy’s presence as her husband reminded Ron of what could have been, had Hermione accepted his proposal when they were twenty-one. Despite the two becoming amicable after their breakup in the years that followed, forming what may constitute a friendship once again, the lingering resentment from her rejection remained.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked over to her husband, who was sitting stiffly and avoiding eye contact with everyone at the table. He stood once Minerva arrived, and at his pleasant greeting she remembered the partnership he had formed with their professor with his work. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione sat chatting with her friends at their table while Malfoy remained in conversation with Minerva, waiting for the Minister to make his obligatory opening remarks. At the sight of Kingsley at the podium the crowd hushed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good evening, everyone. Thank you for coming tonight to help fundraise for Hogwarts School. As you all very well know, education is one of the most important parts of our society. Events of the past have shown us where our education system has failed our young witches and wizards, leading to violence fueled by ignorance and hatred. That being said, the Ministry and the Hogwarts Board of Governors have decided it was high time for some reform in our curriculum.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione looked over at Malfoy at this, seeing his jaw clench, as well as the look of encouragement on Minerva’s face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“At that,” Kingsley continued, “I would like to invite one of our brilliant researchers up here to explain to you the work he’s been doing to reform the Muggle Studies program over the last year, Draco Malfoy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione looked up at her now standing husband in confusion as he made his way to the podium to the chorus of polite applause. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why didn’t he tell her this whole gala was practically in his honour? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good evening,” He began. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m sure there are many out there that are jealous you’ve had that privilege for so long.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>People were laughing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why are people laughing? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My name is Draco Malfoy. For the past year I have been developing a new Muggle Studies curriculum in order to bridge the existing gap between the wizarding and muggle worlds. For too long our education has neglected the importance the muggle world’s influence has on our own, and instead upheld a concept of pureblood wizard supremacy, an ideal that I both benefited from and as a child, regrettably, believed in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione listened to him with her mouth slightly ajar, eyes blown wide open. She noticed at some point, presumably before they arrived, he changed the colour of his tie to match her dress.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The curriculum I have developed will include multiple facets of muggle life including pop culture, science and innovation, arts, and history. History will be particularly important, as we plan to highlight the similarities that our world has to theirs in terms of oppression and colonialism.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione stopped listening after this. She was too focused now on the way his lips moved to sound vowels, the way his hands gripped the podium, his left index finger tapping the side to punctuate each sentence he spoke. She had always known him to be smart, but she never realized how articulate he could be when they weren’t throwing their belongings at one another. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry snorted next to her, “Merlin, Hermione, I always knew you were attracted to knowledge, but I didn’t know it extended to Malfoy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her mouth snapped shut and she flushed. Oh gods, was she? She knew he was handsome, objectively speaking, and when he wasn’t a complete prat, he could be tolerable, and his speech showed just how far he’s come from being the bigoted prick she knew in school, and he said he cared about her-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Fuck.” How had she not noticed before?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry laughed next to her and when she told him to shut it, he laughed even harder. Luckily, Harry had calmed down by the time Malfoy returned to their table and their dinner appeared before them. She remained quiet throughout dinner, shooting glances at Malfoy as he politely answered questions from Ginny and others at the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other than confusion and regrettable attraction, seeing Draco speak about his work in front of everyone caused another feeling she had never directed towards him before; </span>
  <em>
    <span>pride</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She was proud of him. Of how he’s changed from the rotten boy she knew. Of how many people would benefit from his work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Moreover, she was proud to be his wife, as twisted as their relationship was. At the end of the day, it would be her he went home with, and that had to mean something, right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At his continued silence she became increasingly upset as well. Why hadn’t he told her about the gala’s purpose? Why did he hide the work he did from her? She silently seethed at his willingness to speak to the others while he ignored her all night. When their plates had been cleared, Malfoy finally acknowledged her.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you ready to leave?” He asked. If they agreed on one thing it’s that they would always spend as little time at these events as possible, often leaving after dinner was served to avoid the masses that tried to approach them, mainly her.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gods yes.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After saying goodbye to the table, they flooed home. He walked ahead of her, down the hallway to their bedroom. She reached down to her foot and pulled off one of her heels. Hobbling at the difference in height, she yelled, “Malfoy!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned around just in time for the shoe to hit him in the forehead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bloody hell, woman, what have I done now?” He caught the other shoe, unfortunately. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell was all that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The gala? The </span>
  <em>
    <span>speech</span>
  </em>
  <span>! Malfoy, you didn’t even tell me you finished your project, let alone that you would be speaking to the entire Ministry about it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just figured you knew.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> was I supposed to know? You don’t talk to me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t listen!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She ignored him, “Gods, Malfoy, this is just like you! You think you’re so above me,” she walked closer to him, “that you completely shove me,” she shoved him backwards, “out of your life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now hold on, Granger.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t tell me about your work,” </span>
  <em>
    <span>shove</span>
  </em>
  <span>, “You’ve barely introduced me to your friends,” </span>
  <em>
    <span>shove</span>
  </em>
  <span>, “How am I supposed to have a kid with you if I don’t even know you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She went to shove him another time, but he instead spun her around and pinned her to the wall, his hand around her neck. Not choking, but holding. She wrapped her hand around his wrist, testing him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Granger, would you please,” he rasped. “For once, just shut up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked him dead in the eyes. They really were very pretty. His fingers lightly squeezed the sides of her neck, igniting something deep in her core. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Make me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In an instant his lips were on hers, hand abandoning her neck and fisting handfuls of her curls. She kissed back with equal vigor, her hands tugging at his tie. He pulled at the straps on her dress.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hate… this fucking… dress…” he grunted in between kisses. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take it off me then,” she tilted her head up as he kissed down her neck. He tore the dress down the centre, exposing her bare breasts. She began to protest but he silenced her when his lips returned to hers, the hands she so admired groping her breasts. He pinched her nipples and she bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She began unbuttoning his shirt, ripping it open and losing the last few buttons in the motion. She was pulling his shirt off his broad shoulders as he slid her ruined dress down her hips. He paused. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> are your knickers?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smirked at him. “I couldn’t wear them with my dress, there would be lines.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He growled, splitting the rest of her dress and lifting her up from the pool of fabric at her feet. Her naked body flush against his torso, legs wrapped around his waist, her hands pulling at her hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walked them towards their bedroom, lips not leaving hers until he threw her on their new bed. She watched as he finished undressing and then crawled up to hover over top of her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She immediately attacked his neck, kissing some spots, biting others, anything she could to leave her mark on him. His hands trailed down her body, his fingers sneaking between her legs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Hermione,” he whispered. “There’s going to be a different kind of fire in this bed tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione burst into laughter. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Gods</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Draco, that was the lamest thing you’ve ever said.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pinched her clit as punishment and she cried out. Draco nudged at her thighs, prompting her to spread her legs further, then plunged inside her with one quick thrust. He sat back on his heels, pulling Hermione up with him so she was straddling his lap. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was then she realised they hadn’t flipped for who would be on top this time. They hadn’t needed too, they had sex two days before. Tonight was completely voluntary. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we ever going to talk about it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sat side by side against their headboard, both naked and exhausted. Hermione’s muggle alarm clock read 2:32 a.m. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Talk about what?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The reason the Ministry matched us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione sighed. They had managed to avoid talking about thus far, though it seemed their period of blissful silence had come to an end. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“94 percent compatible,” he prompted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Compatibility is subjective.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It isn’t though, not really. Though she thought the self-assessment portion of the matchmaking to be juvenile, and she didn’t give much credence to Divination as a subject, the magical tests by the Department of Mysteries was infallible, as much as Hermione loathe to admit it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We aren’t the worst match, though are we? It could have been worse.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We could have been Greg Goyle and Romilda Vane.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both laughed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But honestly, Hermione.” She looked over at him. His hair was rumpled in a fantastic fashion and his lip split from her teeth. There was earnestness in his expression. “I feel lucky to be matched with you of all people. I mean, you’re incredibly intelligent-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re brilliant,” Hermione blurted. His face reddened slightly, shrugging. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, really!” She shifted onto her knees, not minding that her breasts were still on full display. “I always knew you were smart- you were right behind me in marks for school after all- but Merlin, Draco! The speech you gave tonight, the way you have taken completely foreign concepts from the muggle world, ones that should be common knowledge here, mind you, and made them not only palatable to the mainly Pureblood officials who approved the program, but digestible for those with absolutely zero prior knowledge-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her rambling was cut off by his lips on hers. She kissed him back for a moment, biting and feeling his lip split open again. She pushed him back, his head thumping against the headboard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco laughed through his groan. “Ugh, Hermione.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t think you can just shut me up by kissing me.” Her scolding was weakened by the slight grin breaking through. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen to me, Hermione. I’m not exactly sure why the Ministry matched us, but they did, and even if we divorce after having a child we are going to be in each other’s lives forever. I don’t want to fight anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed, resting her forehead on his shoulder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe the git had a point</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Their entire marriage so far had been tumultuous, but maybe that was far more her fault than she thought. Sure he could still be a prat, but she could also be a major bitch. She thought about how much she overreacted to him not knowing about the gala and cringed at her behaviour. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If we divorce?” She asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said ‘if’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay fine, when we divorce, then.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled her in to rest against his bare chest, neither bothering to get dressed. As she felt herself drift off to sleep she listened to the steady beating of Draco’s heart. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe this could work. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>come join me on tumblr! librained.tumblr.com</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yes it's been a while! I'm sorry! life hack: don't have adhd while being in university in the middle of a global pandemic lmao. I hope you like this one.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After the night of the gala, Hermione was forced to come to a few harsh conclusions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>First, dishes and other glassware lasted a lot longer when you stopped lobbing them at your husband when you’re angry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Second, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> had been the instigator in many of their tiffs, it seemed, as when she stopped picking fights with him their house became much more peaceful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Third, perhaps Malfoy wasn’t the </span>
  <em>
    <span>worst</span>
  </em>
  <span> person she could have been matched with. That conclusion was the hardest potion to swallow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued trying and failing to teach her how to cook. Hermione was learning a lot from him, to her chagrin, but she was deliberately sloppy and obtuse in an effort to annoy him. It worked every time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the mornings before she left for work, she would pull articles out of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prophet</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought he might enjoy, spending dinner debating current events. She started making an effort to ask him about his work. She would begin with specific questions about Hogwarts, which he seemed to love talking about anyway. Conversation would soon evolve into stories about their time in school, discussions about classes, professors, friends, what they’re up to now. It was surprisingly easy how much they could share about their personal lives. They didn’t stray too far into the heavier events of their childhoods, but they were enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So maybe she didn’t hate Draco Malfoy anymore. It didn’t mean she liked him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sunday morning, a few weeks into this new near-friendship they had developed, they were making breakfast together, Hermione not doing much more than ingredient retrieval, when an owl appeared in the window. Wiping her hands, she grabbed a couple of treats from the cupboard and went to retrieve the letter. The owl remained on the ledge, awaiting a reply, so she unfurled the parchment. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey Hermione, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry for the late notice, but would you be able to watch Teddy for the day? Harry was just called away minutes ago about a case and I have a game this afternoon. He was supposed to come here at around 9:00. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If not I’m sure mum can watch him, just let me know and I’ll tell Andromeda. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Love, Gin. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione sighed lightly, summoning a pen to write her agreement on the back of the letter and sent it back with the owl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who was that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ginny, they need someone to watch Teddy today and I said yes. Is that okay?.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Asking my permission, Granger?” He smirked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swatted him with a dish towel. “No, you prat. I just meant that, well, he’s technically your cousin and I wasn’t sure if you’d ever met him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “No. Nor my aunt, for that matter. I tried to convince my mother to reach out a few years ago, but, well…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco didn’t talk about his parents very often. His father was serving a lifetime in Azkaban and as far as she knew Draco had had no contact with him since his sentencing. His mother was given house arrest, expiring at the same time as Draco’s probation. She still lived at the Manor and Hermione knew he visited occasionally for tea. He was always agitated when he returned home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione nodded, understanding. “Well, she’s coming in,” she checked the time, “twenty minutes, so if you want to be somewhere else for the day, I understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine, Hermione. Besides, I think it’s about time I get to meet some family members that </span>
  <em>
    <span>aren’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> insane, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled, the feeling of pride returning. “Well, you better make some more food, then. I haven’t watched Teddy alone in a few years but from what the Potters have told me the boy can eat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione did a quick walkthrough of the flat to ensure anything that could possibly harm a seven year old was out of reach, then set the table for three people. Draco had already put out sliced fruit, juice, and the plate of french toast under a warming charm. He stood by the counter, sipping at his coffee. There was a tenseness in his shoulders, his posture unnaturally stiff, which was saying something for someone with his upbringing. She didn’t offer any words of encouragement, knowing he would reject the platitudes. She offered him a reassuring smile, which he returned slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the sound of the floo, Hermione moved to greet their visitors. She heard Draco’s tentative steps behind her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Andromeda! It’s so lovely to see you-</span>
  <em>
    <span>oof!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hermione’s greeting was cut off by a not-so-small Teddy Lupin crashing into her and wrapping her in a hug. She stroked the boy’s wavy teal hair fondly, the length of time that had passed between her last visit with them setting in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Teddy was very excited to see his </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hermione,” Andromeda smiled. “He was also happy to hear he would be meeting his cousin. Hello, Draco.” She nodded at the man behind her who clearly felt out of place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Mrs Tonks,” Draco greeted politely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Draco. Call me Andromeda,” she gave him a sad smile. “We’re family.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione noticed his shoulders deflate slightly, the hard set of his jaw relax. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, Andromeda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older witch smiled, looking as though she wanted to say more but changed her mind. “Right, well, I told Teddy you weren’t a fan of flying Hermione, but Harry promised to take him so he wanted to bring his broom anyway. Please don’t feel obligated-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can take him,” Draco interrupted. “That is, I mean, if it’s alright with you, Andromeda?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged, looking down at her grandson who was still holding Hermione’s hand tightly. “What do you think, Teddy? Would you like to go flying with your cousin today?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy nodded enthusiastically, looking up Draco. “Harry has a Firebolt! What broom do you have, Draco?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco smiled at the child’s immediate warming to him at the mention of flying. “A Nimbus 2004, I’ll tell you more about it while we eat. Are you hungry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teddy nodded, then dropped Hermione’s hand to quickly kiss his grandmother goodbye and follow Draco into the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you so much for taking him today, Hermione. I know he can be a bit of a handful when unprepared, though it seems Draco will be more of a help than I suspected.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Hermione lowered her voice. “I didn’t think to tell you that he would be here. I wasn’t sure if you knew Draco was who I married.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be silly, Hermione, I don’t mind. Of course I knew who you were married to,” her gaze shifted to the kitchen and she appeared almost mournful. “I’ve been following that boy’s life since the day he was born.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione nodded, “For what it’s worth, I know he was very excited to meet you. And Teddy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andromeda looked at Hermione once again, and she became slightly self-conscious under the witch’s intense stare. “And you. Is he good to you, Hermione? Good </span>
  <em>
    <span>for</span>
  </em>
  <span> you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s,” Hermione struggled for a moment, thinking of the recent change in their relationship, from where it started to where they were now. “I think he might be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andromeda pulled her into a quick hug, promising to return by dinner time, then pulled out a shrunken bag and broom from her robe pockets, cancelling the charms on them then passing them to Hermione. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the older witch flooed away, Hermione went to join Draco and Teddy in the kitchen. They were already seated, Teddy’s plate piled high with food while he rapidly told a story about his classmates to Draco who sat looking amused. She was stricken with how much the two looked alike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teddy only could control his hair changing metamorphmagus abilities, so his hair was now the signature Malfoy white-blond. His eyes and bone structure came from his mother, highlighting just how much of the Black genes had been passed along to Draco as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione slid into her seat across from Draco quietly, not wanting to interrupt Teddy’s rambling. She looked at Draco, who regarded his young cousin with visible fascination and seemed to be truly interested in what the boy had to say. Draco asked questions about life at muggle primary school, helping Teddy cut up his food and unconsciously wiping the syrup that dribbled onto his chin with a napkin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione found herself in a state similar to when Draco gave the speech at the Ministry Gala. A rush of emotions and memories flooded her brain and culminated in one thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Draco Malfoy would be a good father. </span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>They were sitting opposite one another in the living room reading silently. She had noticed in her newfound desire to limit her drinking, the cravings came on anytime from midafternoon to the evening, especially if she was alone. It had seemed, though he never alluded to the knowledge, Draco noticed this, and began lounging in the living room with her after dinner. When she had to pause mid page because her hands shook too much to hold the book steady, he would subtly leave so as to not draw attention to it, returning with tea or a sample of the latest desert he experimented with. Perhaps it was a coincidence, but the way he would look her in the eyes when she would mutter a soft thanks suggested otherwise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard enough grappling with the idea that Draco Malfoy might be a good person, it was even more difficult to admit he may be a good </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That morning an owl had delivered to Draco the invitation to the next reunion dinner. She had opened it, curious, as it had been addressed to both of them. Now it could not leave her mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So this party on Friday,” Hermione began, “Is it Slytherin exclusive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco looked at her curiously, “No, why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was just wondering, well,” she swallowed, not meeting his eye. “Can I come with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his book. “You’d really want to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah,” she shrugged. “I just figured if we have decided to be friendly,” he laughed at her discomfort, “I should at least get to know who your friends are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked. “That’s it? Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, okay. They’ve been asking about you anyway. I just assumed you didn’t want to come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well shit, they must think she’s the biggest bitch in the wizarding world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well, I think I’m just going to turn in, then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nearly sped walked up the stairs, hearing a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goodnight, Hermione</span>
  </em>
  <span> behind her as she left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Friday night she stood with Draco in front of Blaise Zabini’s townhouse. She wiped her hands on her dress. She remembered Draco’s attire from the last party, his suit implying it was a formal affair but assuring her that she would not need to wear dress robes. Perhaps out of defiance from entering the snake pit, she chose a sleeveless, form-fitting red dress. Draco had smirked when he saw her walking out of their bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nervous?” Draco asked, looking over to Hermione who was staring straight ahead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! You wish.” Her jaw clenched. She didn’t want to admit it, but she really did want his friends to like her. She’d rather attribute that desire to the painful insecurity of her youth rather than anything to do with Draco himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaise Zabini opened the door to reveal a home as extravagant as she remembered the man to be. His brightly coloured suit had golden embellishments that matched the golden decor of his home. It would almost appear gaudy if she didn’t know it was all real. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco! At last!” He pulled Draco in and kissed him on both cheeks, her husband laughing at his friend’s theatrics. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what’s this?” Zabini asked, turning his attention to Hermione. “The Golden Girl herself has graced us with her presence!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione felt awkward at the reminder she had unintentionally avoided these events, though Draco never invited her. “Hello, Zabini.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, please, call me Blaise,” he offered his hand to her. Hermione realised he intended for her to kiss it, so she placed a light peck and scowled at Draco’s amusement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaise guided them into a large sitting room, telling them a story rife with details that she didn’t catch. She was distracted, sneaking subtle glances at Draco, whose entire demeanor seemed to change once he crossed the threshold of his friend’s home. She tried not to be offended, assuming she was the same around her own friends. Around her he was always polite, bordering on friendly, but remained stiff and reserved. Except when they argued. They definitely took advantage of that Pain Removal charm much more than the Ministry would likely accept. Here, with one of his oldest companions, his shoulders were relaxed, his hands casually in his trouser pockets instead of being on guard, a slight smile never leaving his mouth. Hermione decided she liked him like this and, in typical Hermione Granger fashion, decided her next pet project would be unravelling the complex web that was her husband.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They entered a grand sitting room, the crowd much smaller than she anticipated. Theo Nott was there with Daphne Greengrass, married before the law thanks to their parent’s arrangement. Pansy Parkinson sat alone, Percy unsurprisingly absent, hand on her pregnant stomach. Tracey Davis had brought the only other non-Slytherin; her Ministry ordered husband Ernie McMillan. Ernie had been a thorn in Hermione’s side her entire wizarding life, his jabs at Harry throughout school as well as his thinly masked Pureblood supremacy, which he brought with him to the Wizengamot when he took up his family’s seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaise sat next to Pansy and wrapped his arm loosely around her shoulders, using the other to gesture to the seats free across from them. She had heard rumours about them. They had been together before the marriage law was enacted, apparently their compatibility was nearly enough for them to be matched. Except, it seemed, their Sacred Twenty-Eight lineage preventing them from being able to conceive a child together. Zabini and his match, a Slytherin witch two years below them in Hogwarts, were friends, but had no desire to try for a relationship, no matter what the compatibility tests said. They divorced amicably and had 50/50 custody of their daughter, born exactly nine months after they wed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione sat stiffly while Draco relaxed into the couch. Two wine glasses floated towards them with a bottle pouring red wine behind them. The glasses landed in their hands and the bottle sat in front of them ready for them to refill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione took a sip slowly. She cursed herself for feeling like she needed it to prepare herself for a night with old rivals. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Draco watching her. She set down her glass, showing him her intention to pace herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So Hermione,” Pansy began. “I haven’t seen you around the Weasley’s much in the times I’ve been forced to attend their family gatherings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione laughed. She didn’t want to disparage the first wizarding family to accept her into their world, but the deterioration of her relationship with Ron left a lot of lingering resentment on both ends. “Well, Mrs Weasley made it very clear that I was no longer welcome in their home after I rejected Ron’s proposal all those years back. Called me a harlot, said her son was, quote, “too good for someone without a single womanly instinct in her body”. I think she was less upset that I broke it off with her son and more so at my insinuation that I had no interest in her lifestyle. No disrespect to her choices, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, of course,” Pansy smirked. She leaned forward conspiratorially, well, as much as she could with her massive baby bump and stage whispered, “Did you know she ‘forgot’ my gift at Christmas this year? Everyone else had their hand knit sweaters on except me. Wasn’t much of a loss though, they were hideous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione threw her head back in laughter. It was refreshing to have someone to bitch about the Weasleys with who wasn’t part of the family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She did a similar thing to me in fourth year. Do you remember that article you helped Skeeter write about me? She ended up sending me a </span>
  <em>
    <span>noticeably</span>
  </em>
  <span> more pathetic gift than everyone else because I had broken Harry’s heart. I was fifteen and she treated me like some sort of homewrecker!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The others were laughing now. Daphne Greengrass chimed in, “Didn’t you have a hand in that article, Draco?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco grimaced, “Yeah, I did. Sorry about that, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione waved him off. Blaise and Pansy shared a glance at the term of endearment, to which Hermione took a bigger sip of her wine. The bottle in front of her levitated and filled the glass once more. She noted that it didn’t wait for her glass to empty before filling once more, so if she were to remain upright she would have to keep an eye on how many times it refilled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None of it matters now. I love the Weasleys, of course, but loving them from a distance is enough for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group migrated to the dining room shortly afterwards. The men all pulled out chairs for their partners in a display of chivalry, Hermione was reminded that she was the only non-Pureblood in the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The food was delicious. Blaise, Hermione found out, also taught himself how to cook, advancing to gourmet recipes as he had limitless free time while he lived off his mother’s divorce settlements. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about you, Hermione? What is it that the Ministry has the Golden Girl working on these days?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am a litigator, I essentially draft laws and policy and, if approved, then present them to the Wizengamot.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haven’t seen you much, have we, Hermione?” Ernie jibed. “I don’t recall ever receiving any legislation authored by you in all my time holding my family’s seat. I am the twelfth generation MacMillan to be seated in the Wizengamot, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They know, Ernie,” Tracey said softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione suppressed her scowl. It was this attitude in general that made her job so frustrating. “Well, no, some of the others in my department, including my superiors think my proposals are too ‘radical’, so I haven’t been too successful yet. I’m sure you all remember S.P.E.W., so it’s not that unbelievable.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all chuckled. Hermione looked over at Draco, who sat silently looking pensive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the night was spent chatting in the parlour, his friends being very eager to get to know her and Hermione feeling guilty for not giving them a chance sooner. It was nearing midnight and she was feeling a bit tired so Draco agreed they should head home. Hermione had promised she would attend the next party and wasn’t fully lying when she said she was looking forward to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They decided to walk home, Blaise’s home being only a few blocks from their own, something else Hermione didn’t know. They were silent for a few minutes, walking with a comfortable distance between them. They were waiting for the light to change at a crosswalk when a car drove past them honking and a man yelling something perverted out the window at Hermione. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oi, that’s my wife!” Draco yelled after the car, though the Muggle had driven too far to have heard him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione smiled and looked amusedly up at Draco’s indignant face. She moved closer to him and nudged him lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were quiet tonight,” she remarked, breaking the silence between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking,” he replied. The light changed and they began to cross the street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, what MacMillan said tonight, about your work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, he’s such a conceited arse. It’s not at all uncommon for junior litigators to not make it to the Wizengamot. Besides, the only reason he has his position is Britain’s archaic, undemocratic rules of succession anyway.” She huffed, too tired to launch into a full rant tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hold the Malfoy seat currently, not that I ever use it, as you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhmm.” She was unsure of where he was going with his point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Legally, I can pass control to any member of the family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re Hermione Malfoy, are you not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione stopped walking. “Draco, what are you saying?” She was behind him, about a foot away from the sidewalk. He pulled her off the street. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That I will give you the seat, of course,” he smirked back at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco, you can’t! It’s yours! Besides, I doubt we will be married long enough for me to do anything meaningful with it. What happens when we divorce?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no use for it. As long as your name is legally Malfoy, you can hold the seat.” He grabbed her hands and held them. “Hermione, let me give this to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grinned uncontrollably and launched herself into his arms. He wrapped them around her waist and held her close, chuckling at her excitement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Draco,” She whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Hermione,” he replied. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>join me on Tumblr! librained.tumblr.com</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>